Mark Pryor - Cyberian Affair

Three men in jogging suits, carrying gym bags, walked casually toward Niko, waving. As they got closer, one man held his finger to his lips and pointed to a cluster of palm trees. Niko joined him.

Each man squatted before their gym bag and opened it. They removed bulky goggles and fitted them to their faces. They also donned heavy vests.

One of the men, probably the team leader, handed a vest to Niko and whispered, “Put this on. It won’t protect you completely, but it should stop a body shot. Meanwhile, stay here while we recon the situation.”

The CIA team spread out, disappearing into tall weeds. A drone with four vertical propellers flew overhead, then turned around and flew back.

Soon, the leader appeared at the house where Vyper was being held. He motioned for Niko to join him.

The man spoke softly. “All the windows are covered with plywood, but infrared shows four people inside. One near the front door, probably a guard. The other three are together in one small room—only one of them is standing. That’s where the implant’s signal is coming from. Wait outside until we call for you. Your presence should let the woman know we’re the good guys.” He handed Niko a radio.

Niko nodded. “I have a gun. I can help.”

“No,” said the leader. “My team has infrared scopes. We work well together. I don’t want you shooting anyone on my team. You could be killed, too. We’ll neutralize the enemy. If something goes wrong, and you have to defend yourself, assume they’re wearing body armor. Shoot for the head.” He pointed to one of his men, standing at the side of the house, aiming a rifle at the boarded-up window. “The assault starts when he takes out the guard.”

The leader ran to the door and pressed his back to the wall, holding a rifle against his chest. Once the first shot rang out, he kicked down the door and ducked inside. The man at the window followed him. Four more shots rang out in rapid succession.

Niko’s heart pounded. He wanted to believe Vyper was okay.

The radio chirped, and a voice announced, “All clear.”

Niko rushed inside past the body of a man lying on his back with a bullet hole in his forehead, a small pool of blood forming under his head.

The leader stood outside a room at the far corner, waving his arm for Niko to approach.

Niko ran up to him. “Is Vyper in there? Is she all right?”

The man nodded, a grim expression on his face. “I’m sorry—”

Out of the corner of his eye, Niko saw movement inside the room. He rushed in. One agent spoke on the phone. Another was kneeling next to three people lying on the floor—one was a woman. She lay face down, wearing nothing but underwear—Vyper’s underwear. Her flowery sundress lay in a rumpled pile near her feet.

When Niko knelt down, he spotted the handle of a knife sticking out of her side.

Niko opened his eyes when he heard a door open. He was alone in the Nassau Hospital waiting room—must have dozed off waiting to hear from the surgeon. He rose from the chair.

A young doctor wearing blue scrubs stepped into the room and walked over to Niko. “Mister Martin?”

Niko nodded. As far as the hospital was concerned, Martin was his name, and the patient was his wife. He searched the doctor’s expression for any hint of Vyper’s condition, but the man was impossible to read. “How’s she doing?”

The surgeon’s face softened, and he extended his hand. “I am Doctor Hudson. The surgery went well.”

Niko shook his hand. A sense of relief washed over him, and he reached for the arm of his chair.

“Please sit, Mister Martin.” The doctor held Niko’s arm until he settled into the chair. “Your wife was fortunate. The knife missed her major blood vessels.” He took a seat. “Her abdominal injuries were limited to the small intestine. We repaired the damage, but the risk of peritonitis is significant.”

“That’s an infection, isn’t it?”

Hudson nodded. “We have already started treating her intravenously with antibiotics.”

“I understand she has a head injury.”

“She suffered a concussion from a blunt blow to the back of her neck. It might have been a fist.”

“When can I see her, Doctor?”

“She’s in recovery right now. We’ll notify you as soon as she can receive visitors.”

When Hudson left, Niko checked his watch—nearly midnight. He planned to stay here all night if necessary. The magazines on the coffee table catered to medicine and women’s fashion. He spotted a remote control and turned on the TV, tuning it to an international network news broadcast.

Videos of Sunday’s fire at Rockefeller Petroleum appeared in the background while a reporter from Texas described the effect it had on the Houston area communities. After a commercial break, the news anchor introduced the story:

Homeland Security released a statement earlier this evening, identifying a malicious computer virus as the cause of the Texas refinery fires. The Department has heightened the security posture at all major oil and gas suppliers in the United States.

Computer virus my ass. It was a Russian attack.

Niko muted the TV, pulled out his phone, and logged onto a private network in Miami. He accessed Rockefeller Petroleum’s corporate systems. Their security team was on high alert, in constant communication with Homeland. Rockefeller was fully aware of the details of the attack, but unaware that Russia was the attacker. Niko checked two other Texas oil companies and discovered the same level of engagement.

Satisfied the refinery issues were being handled, Niko looked up the Calvert Cliffs nuclear power plant. Without his laptop, he couldn’t penetrate their defenses.

The phone rang, and Niko waited for the secure call to connect.

Smith’s voice came on the line. “Have you had a chance to see Vyper yet?”

“Not yet. The doctor said things went well but he was worried about an infection.”

“She’ll get the best care available, Niko. We’re sending her to Walter Reed Medical Center in Maryland. Doctor Hudson said she should be able to travel soon, so we scheduled a flight for noon today.”

“I’ll be glad when Vyper’s back home. She shouldn’t have come here.”

“We’ll all feel better when she’s back in the States. For now, Nassau Hospital’s assigned her to a private room, and I had it swept for bugs.”

“Thanks.” Niko turned the TV off. “Did we get Sokolov? I never got a straight answer before heading to the hospital.”

“We got him. Actually, I believe Vyper got him. He was the man lying under her when we arrived. His head must have hit the floor hard.”

Niko pictured Vyper’s body lying face down—not on the floor. He remembered the knife, but he couldn’t picture the person underneath. “He’s dead?”

“In a coma… I doubt he’ll ever regain consciousness. The other guys are dead.”

With Sokolov near death, and never able to come after them again, Niko should feel safe—but then he thought about Zatan. According to the CIA, he and Sokolov had been working together. That got him thinking. “How will the local news report the gunfight when we rescued Vyper? The neighbors would have noticed.”

“As far as the public knows, the police raided the house to capture two drug dealers who died in the gunfight. No one else was there—not Sokolov, Vyper, or you.”

“It sounds like you’ve got everything worked out. After I see her, I’ll get ready for our flight.”

“You don’t understand, Niko. We’re flying Vyper home. We need you to continue the operation. We don’t know what Zatan’s planning with Calvert Cliffs—and possibly other power plants.”